Gwendolyn
by MegaRdaniels
Summary: When Timmy Turner, a young boy gifted with powerful, magical fairies, meets a kind old man, Max Tennyson who takes care of a depressed young girl, Gwen Tennyson in a small town of Dimsdale, he volunteers to help the girl through life and prosperity after suffering the loss of her first paternal cousin Ben Tennyson from the outbreak of the Ebola virus. WARNING: VIOLENCE AND LANGUAGE


Disclaimer: **I DO NOT OWN FAIRLY ODD PARENTS NOR BEN 10. THEY BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS.**

 _ **Hey guys, remember me, the guy who brought you great and enticing stories? Yep this guy lol. I have been wanting to write a Fairly Odd Parents Fanfiction but it never came up to fruition. So, instead of doing in so of more like in Ultimate ga Kill, I want to make it as a drama - a little serious especially with The Fairly Odd Parents.**_

 _ **I hope you all enjoy this new spin in the crossover. Please always leave reviews, they are always appreciated.**_

* * *

 **Gwendolyn**

by

 _Mr. Raleigh D_

* * *

 **I**

TELLING MY STORY

Log: January 23, 2198 CE. My name is Dr. Robert Finch, I am a psychologist working for the Administration for Social Security in Willgradine Hospital. It was an ordinary day in Newton, nothing special, but nothing bare. It was indifferent like any other day. Day by day, the news reported of two large political disputes on a verge of a major global war. I doubt that it was going to happen. We all did. Flying in the great swarm of cars in a vast city devoid of life and just, I looked around by the window as I drove nonchalantly through the bee-like highway. I had a call just before I left that a client was heading his way, an old client no doubt by the way.

His records to what I've been told had been erased. There was nothing on him, he was invisible to the system but yet he is still paid by Social Security. How can a man invisible to the world still recognized only by a pin-print ? It was a mystery to me.

I finally made it to the great building, the Hospital that I worked for; I flew my car and parked it to my designated parking space. I had all of my gear and closed the car door and approached to the building, readying myself for the client I was about to meet. On my way to the door was a lovely young woman, she appeared to be in her late thirties. She had oddly pink hair and had a sultry look to her hourglass figure. She had a son, one with violate hair and looked like a hoodlum masked by direct innocence. I couldn't tell by how wild his hair was. But who am I to judge.

I reached up to the woman and introduced myself, "Hello, my is Dr. Finch. Nice to meet you. Is this your son..." I took a look at my card, "Mr. Tiberius?"

"Oh no, my good man. This is my son D.J, we just moved from the Eastern Correlation a couple of months ago," she told.

"Oh so I've been told."

"You look like a man who has little patience," said the woman.

"What makes you say?" I furrowed. The woman paused.

"Just a lucky guess," she said.

I shrugged, "Well, its great to meet you, Miss..."

"Ms. Cosma, sir," she shook my hand.

"Ms. Cosma, it was a pleasure."

...

I walked inside looking at the bright white scenery. The Nurse Droids cared for the weak and the ill as the offspring sat on the floor watching cartoons and/or played with the generic games us hospital folk could provide for them to keep them occupied. I looked to the desk to see Ms. Smith's permanent scowl across her face.

"Mr. Finch, your client is on his way," she informed.

"Okay, can you show me the records of the man?"

"What records?"

"The client that I'm about to meet. I can't..."

"When I mean 'what records' I really mean there are no records of them. No education status, no martial status, financial, political, miscellaneous, nothing. There is nothing about him in the system.

"Then how?"

"I don't know how he can still be alive after all this time being invisible in the system. All I could say is try to use some imagination...if you got any," she said.

...

I entered my office with no files and no info about this man. Who was he? How can a man be this invisible - but then something struck me. Recalling what Ms. Smith said, she stated that and I quote, "I don't know how he can still be alive after all this time." How old was this guy?

I straightened up my desk for his arrival and everything trying look and present myself as neat and tidy as I possibly can. Finally there was a buzzer.

"Mr. Finch, your client has arrived, I repeat, your client has arrived," said Ms. Smith over the intercom.

"Thank you, Ms. Smith," I said.

Coming into the door slowly was a very old man. He wore pale blue high-water pants with a thick brown, leather belt, dark brown boots, a lumberjack-colored striped shirt, and a black fedora. He slowly walked in and closed the door. He was carrying a live rose in his right hand. Strange, but not odd.

I got up from my chair with a business smile and approached him.

"Hello, My name is Robert Finch, you must be Mr. Tiberius."

"And that I am," he croaked, "And that I am."

"How about you have a seat Mr. Tiberius. Make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you Mr. Finch," said Mr. Tiberius. He sat on the chair opposite of me. I got ready to gather as much information as I could possibly get. I had my pen and paper ready to go.

"Alright Mr. Tiberius I'm going to ask you a few questions about...well about your life if you don't mind at all sir," he said.

"In what inch do you want to know. My memory is shot after all those years, son," he said.

"Just try to remember the best way you can," I said.

"I can't," he said holding a rose, "My memory is long gone, Mr. Finch. Its all scraps of a distant past."

As it may be true to ones age to have a few fragments of their past, he seemed to be holding on to that rose pretty well, "With all Mr. Finch, I believe..."

"I see," I said understandingly, deciding to take another approach. Rather be being direct, I decided to be indirect. I had to pick something that is well, not out there, not in the script to be one's add. I took a sharp gander at the rose carefully.

"That's a nice rose, Mr. Tiberius," I said.

Mr. Tiberius petted the head rather softly, smiling, "Yes it is."

"Do you remember who gave it to you? A cousin? A grandchild?"

"I have no grandchildren. It would be nice if I had any though."

"You live alone?" I asked writing it down on the notebook.

"Yes. I live alone."

"Do you wish that there was someone to look after you?" I asked worried.

"I'm afraid someone already is," he said.

"Who?"

"Someone."

"Care to tell me their name?"

"I don't remember their name, but I know she's watching me," he said.

"Who's watching you?"

"I don't remember," he replied. I sighed.

"Okay, let's start on the basics, shall we?"

"Okay."

"Care to tell me your name? Birthday? Where you were born?"

"My name is Timothy Tiberius Turner; I was born in March 21, 1992 at 7:03pm Pacific Standard Time in a place once known as Dimsdale, California, United States of America," he said. My eyes bugged. Did I just hear...

My pen dropped after hearing that...obviously either this man is nuts or he's just incredibly off his rocker.

"You was born when?" I asked again.

"1992 sir," he said, "I am 205 years old turning 206 this coming March."

"Impossible, you can't be that old...how'd..."

"Do you believe in miracles, Mr. Finch?" he asked me.

"I don't believe in miracles," I said.

"Then you don't believe in yourself," he said, "The world is not all good, but its not all evil either. It's balanced. If we lived in a bad world, what is good; and if we lived in a demented world, what is good? Without good, there is no evil, and without evil there is no good. It's the ying and the yang that cancels out the other to a universal number."

"And what number is that?"

"0," he said with a smile.

"Meaning?"

"Life," he said looking at the rose, "0 is the beginning of beginnings, because everything starts with nothing."

"You been looking at that rose for a minute now," I said, "What makes the rose special to you?"

"Because she gave this rose to me?" Tiberius said.

"Who gave this rose to you?"

"I don't remember."

"Try to remember," I said, "It'll do you some good. Try to remember the first thing you had done in your childhood that had led up to the rose. Timothy, what was childhood like leading up to this point?"

Tiberius took a sharp glance at me before he turned back at the rose, "It was the summer of '02..."

* * *

TIMMYTIMMYTIMMY

* * *

MY FATHER, my friends and I were returning from camp under the baking sun of the Great Basin. It was a long drive and I struggled to keep myself entertained during this trip. I tried making calls but like all Wi-Fi connected contraptions, finding a signal is just as hard as finding water in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Watching the poles pass by me as we rode in the hot barren landscape on this empty road. There was nothing in this vicinity. Back in the day, the desert was...well desert. Now the desert is just a couple of super-cities engulfing a continent miles on end covering an entire country with its artificialness. The summers there are a blasé.

I was just 10 years old riding with my old man and friends - if I could ever call them my friends. Chester and AJ sat in the back quietly remembering the hell we had to endure. I was one of them. My dad was the biggest klutz I have ever known. Every time he tried to repair something breaks, every time something is repaired, he will find a way to "repair" it. Like all the people where I was from he was not the brightest. In fact he was the most dangerous.

* * *

"How was your father dangerous Timothy?" I asked writing everything down.

"I don't remember," he said, "I don't remember how dangerous he was...all I know was that he was."

I tapped the pen against my chin coming up with a few theories on how dangerous Timothy portrayed this man to be, "Did he ever touch you in a place where he should have?"

Timothy nodded, "No."

"I thought you said that you don't remember how dangerous he was."

"I don't. But common sense says that's stupid. If my father was a rapist then I won't be here today. If my father was some sort of psychopath my mind would assimilate his behavior creating a monster. And I will have you know that I am not a monster," he clocked, "I was just an average kid."

"My apologies Timothy..."

"No need...everyone makes mistakes from time to time...you were just curious," he said, "you asked a question and I answered it, that seems fair am I right?"

I nodded, "Continue on."

* * *

"This is the last time I ever go on a trip with Timmy's dad," said Chester.

"I concur," AJ said, "My back is aching man from sleeping on the ground for a fortnight," he said to Chester, "Hey Timmy what say you?" AJ asked me.

"I don't know guys," I began, "I kinda like spending time with my pops," I lied as he continued singing his tune off-key.

Suddenly, as if we saw this coming, the car putted.

"Oh no," said my Pop, "Please don't die on me."

The car stopped and died. The front of the hood blew up black smoke forcing it to blast itself open.

"Damn," he said turning to us, "Mind my swearing kids uhh, it seems like the engine had finally died."

We groaned.

"Don't worry dad," I said, "I think you'll figure out a way."

"As if," said Chester.

"Ahh hush you," my Pop dismissed, "I'll get this ol' chipper back into shape in no time. in the meantime you all can go out and play while I get this car running again!" he said elatedly.

We groaned once more.

We were in the middle of the god damn desert with very limited supplies and very limited patience.

WE WERE BAKING underneath nature's harmful solar rays in that afternoon. My pop tried everything from using a wrench to unscrew the pipes because of…well why the hell not. That was my answer. Nobody knew why my pop more than I did.

My friends and I complained about heat as it reared its invisible flaming tail up against us, burning us alive. It was one of those time that I just wanted to wish myself out of that nightmare – or perhaps wished that my father was a better mechanic and not an amateur thinking that he could fix anything within a blink of an eye. Oh joy, the desert madness was slowly engulfing us, consuming us with its mind numbing rays driving us mad.

"We are gonna die out here!" Chester complained, "See this is why I can't go to anymore camping trips with your dad – and only your dad."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"It means that your Pop, just after ripping the engine out of the hood of the car…I mean we are trapped in the desert with no food, no water, and no supplies! We are going to perish!" he said.

"I'm sorry Timmy," AJ cosigned, "But I have to agree with AJ on this one," He said, "Your dad isn't as you know… _he's not that bright_."

"Well maybe you guys don't understand my dad the same way I do," I said, "Yeah he might be a bit off but he is still my dad," I said.

Just when AJ was about to retort about my…well sorry to say my not-so-intelligent father who if I could remember correctly was knowing on jumper cables to start the car…only for him to be electrocuted, we saw an RV yonder just bending in the heat. We thought it was a mirage but the image of the RV was not fading. It was coming closer to us. Chester and AJ yelled for help as they waved their hands around screaming and hollering like a couple of banshees. Heh, those two. My dad stopped trying to fix the car and saw our mirage…which turns out not to be.

The RV slowed down and stopped in a smooth motion. The vehicle looked beaten down almost: it was tan with red and white stripes cut around it. Everything else about the vehicle was not all that special. I remember that after the van stopped, I was a little well unwell of who it could be. My first guess was that it could be Mister Denzel Crocker because…well…

* * *

"Who is Denzel Crocker?" I asked.

Tiberius shared a dry, hearty laugh, "He was one of those guys who you would like to call the special kind of people to wrap a nice white blanket around him."

"So in other words he was ill," he said.

"I don't want to call him that even though he sure act like it. You see I did things to Crocker that I'm not proud of. It was something that I wanted to prevent. If I had never intervened with his life, he wouldn't have gone what he had to go through," he said, "They say that time only moves in one direction, but I say that time has none. It's only thread and left undisturbed, there is a sense of peace and tranquility, but fling on it – chaos. The only thing I was good at learning was through the hard way, Mr. Finch," he said.

"Seems like your friends have some sort of distaste for your father. Didn't you say that they were your friends? Because friends do not disrespect or downplay one's parents," I said a little confused and yet intrigued at this man's story.

"In a world where chaos is king there are no friends only enemies," he said.

That is true. Since the Third Great War, the world became chaotic and divided. Death and disease dominated the world like an uncontrollable cancer. Most of the world's populace were dropping like flies. There were no friends in a world at war…in a world in chaos.

But then I began to think, didn't he say something about a certain someone?

"Go on," I said.

* * *

A man who happened to be in his early 60s got out of his RV wearing a large pink Hawaiian shirt and brown khaki pants. His smile was welcoming and gleaming with life. It read as if there was no bad bone anywhere in him. Chester and AJ as well as I could feel the air breezing out to the outside brushing our skin like a rush of cold water as he exited the vehicle. We wanted to go in…we really wanted to too it was so goddamn hot outside.

"Hello there," he greeted, "Is there a problem?"

"Nope no problem sir," my dad said as the hood of the car blasted black smoke to his face, "It's okay! It is normal for a car to blast soot in my face!" he wheezed.

The older man rushed to his aid to ease his coughing. "Looks like it's more than just a Fender Bender," he said, "Your…engine has been ripped out and…" he noticed that the engine sat on the ground broken in a dozen pieces.

"He tried to fix the car," Chester snitched.

"Oh really now," the old man chuckled, "Well don't you worry, I'll drag this thing to the shop."

"In a meanwhile, can we stay in your cool as hell…I mean Arctic feeling, relaxing RV?" Chester, AJ, and I asked in unison. Yeah I was a douche, sue me. But hell I was good at it though.

"Who are you?" my dad asked the man.

"My name is Max Tennyson," he said extending his hand, "Pleasure to meet you sir."

* * *

 **AN:** _Hey there. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Be prepared for more as well as Ultimate ga Kill. Please always leave reviews, they are always appreciated and until we meet again, I bid you all an adieu and..._

 **Peace!**


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